Penitence
by CumberBabes
Summary: Sherlock Holmes had no idea just how his life was about to turn upside down by the arrival of a strange woman. "It's Alodia, actually," she stated. "Well that's rubbish, who has old-fashioned names like that nowadays?" Sherlock/OC. M for later chapters. Previously from profile of Emiko96.
1. Hello

**This story previously posted on profile of Emiko96. Being as it is a collab between ReiraKurenai and Emiko96 all further updates will be posted here. **

**We only own our OC's and no profit is made from the writing of this story**

**Please Enjoy! **

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_Hello_

The café was small and cosy, the seat by the window was occupied by two men. The men didn't have much in common and to the stranger's eye it looked like a date between colleagues or perhaps even lovers. It was a bit confusing, actually. The taller of the two had dark curls and blue eyes which were focused on the street outside. His friend was sitting with his back to the window and he seemed to be thinking about something as he watched his partner.

Finally, the waiter bought a plate of food for the shorter man. The taller man's attention was fixed out of the window and he was quietly drumming his fingers on the table.

"People don't have arch-enemies," John Watson pointed out as he took a bite of his food.

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock Holmes asked several seconds after John had actually asked the question.

"In real life. There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn't happen." John stated pushing food around on his plate then taking a mouthful while looking up at his partner.

Sherlock's attention turned back to the window, disinterested in the conversation. "Doesn't it? Sounds a bit dull."

"So who did I meet?"

Ignoring the question Sherlock asked one of his own, "What do real people have, then, in their 'real lives'?"

"Friends; people they know; people they like; people they don't like ... Girlfriends, boyfriends ..." leaving the statement open for comment John turned back to his food.

"Yes, well, as I was saying – dull."

"You don't have a girlfriend, then?"

Still looking out of the window, Sherlock's attention remained beyond the glass. "Girlfriend? No, not really my area."

"Mm."

A moment passes before realisation set in about the possible significance of this statement. The food seemed to lodge in John's throat for a second.

"Oh, right. D'you have a boyfriend?"

Sherlock looked at him sharply.

"Which is fine, by the way." John avoided eye contact while waiting for his answer.

"I know it's fine."

John smiled to indicate that he wasn't signifying anything negative by what he said but was still uncomfortable by the awkward answer that he wanted brought to light once and for all.

"So you've got a boyfriend then?"

"No."

John still smiled, though his smile was becoming a little fixed and awkward. "Right. Okay. You're unattached. Like me," He looked down at his plate, rapidly running out of things to say in the awkward moment. "Fine," Clearing his throat he finished weakly. "Good."

Sherlock looked at his new companion suspiciously for a moment while the man continued eating before turning his attention back to the dark and somewhat quiet night outside. For a moment his expression appeared startled after his brain had further processed John's statement, his speech becoming awkward and speeding up in an almost babble.

"John, um ... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by your interest, I'm really not looking for any ..."

"No." he cleared his throat to interrupt the man. "No, I'm not asking. No." he denies, fixing his gaze onto Sherlock's, obviously trying to convey his sincerity. "I'm just saying, it's all fine."

Sherlock looks for a moment more before nodding. "Good. Thank you."

In a doctor's surgery, John sat opposite a beautiful strawberry blonde woman, clad in a pristine doctor's overcoat, holding in front of her his Curriculum Vitae.

"Just locum work," Sarah Sawyer stated looking up at him.

"No, that's fine." In a forcefully reassuring way.

"You're, um ... well, you're a bit over-qualified." A nervous sort of chuckle escaped her lips.

John smiled, "Er, I could always do with the money."

"Well, we've got two away on holiday this week, and one's just left to have a baby. Might be a bit mundane for you."

"Er, no; mundane is good sometimes. Mundane works."

"It says here you were a soldier," Sarah whispered.

"And a doctor," John confirmed nodding with a smile while Sarah looked down at his papers again.

"Anything else you can do?" Sarah asked flirtatiously.

"I learned the clarinet at school," John smiled.

Laughing Sarah pretended to be flabbergasted. "Oh! Well, I look forward to it!"

Suddenly the office door slammed loudly and a brunette woman stumbled inside. She looked dishevelled and anxious, a nurse hot on her heels.

"I'm sorry Doctor," the nurse apologised before Sarah could utter a sound, "I tried to explain you were in an appointment but she pushed right through."

Sarah stood up from her chair sending it banging up against the wall behind her. The young woman stood still just inside the swinging door, breathing hard, clutching the jacket around her protectively.

"Alley?" Sarah asked, surprised. "What are you doing here? Are you alright?"

"Maybe," John cut in, "I should go…"

"No, wait..." Sarah turned to him for a split second but was interrupted by the distraught woman's ramblings which he could not comprehend.

"Help…pregnant… Felix…Rim…alone."

Sarah moved from behind her desk towards Alley and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Calm down, Alley. I don't understand. Speak slower this time."

John really thought it was time he should go…but his presence had been forgotten.

"I'm p-pregnant," Alley finally mustered to say without hysterical sobs.

"Oh," Sarah said, moving Alley to the sofa, "sit down, dear."

"Felix…." Alley muttered, "don't tell him."

"Why not?" Sarah asked, "is he not the father?"

"It's not that," Alley cried, "it's…well…I found something in his coat pocket. A symbol. I recognised it."

Sarah's eyes widened in realisation, while John was left confused.

"Alright," Sarah sighed, "we won't contact Felix. But you can't stay with me – he'll look there first."

Alley bit her lip, turning her head towards the door in terror, as though the man they were talking about would walk in any second.

"Where can I go, I can't go anywhere else, I'm alone, no-one…" her speech sped up and her breathing became erratic.

"She could stay with me…err, us," John suddenly cut in, "at least until you find other arrangements."

Sarah and Alley turned their attention to John now, their expressions surprised. Neither of them had noticed him until he spoke.

"You would do that?" Sarah asked. She had certainly liked the idea of this man, but now he was proving to be a gentlemen. She liked gentlemen. There could be no question of his honour, he was a soldier and a doctor, right?

"Sure," John replied, "I got connections."

Sarah turned to Alley. "How does that sound, Alley?"

Alley had calmed down somewhat and her green eyes were focused on John.

"Only until I find better arrangements," Alley finally agreed, "I don't want to impose."

"Of course," John smiled. Now if only he could convince Sherlock that easily…

The number on the door read 221B, John unlocked it and called out, stepping aside to let Alley through.

"Sherlock?"

Alley stepping into the hall in front of a set of stairs that led up to a bright doorway. A walkway beside the stairs led down to another door that opened to reveal an older lady, clad in purple, a smile across her face.

"Hello John, and who's this then?"

"Mrs Hudson, this is Alley, she's going to be staying with us temporarily."

"Hello dear, I'm the landlady for these two hooligans." Alley looked at her but still said nothing, choosing instead to offer a polite smile.

From upstairs a rather deep, dramatic voice called down, "John, quickly, I need you!"

"What now?" John turned his apologetic gaze upon Alley and then turned, taking the stairs two at a time before disappearing into the doorway. Mrs Hudson motioned for Alley to follow before her and so she did, at a more sedate pace.

"I need your phone, mines on the desk."

"And you couldn't take two steps away from that skull to pick it up?" John pulled his out of his coat pocket and slapped it into Sherlock's outstretched palm just as Alley passed through the door.

The man was tall, dark and handsome, his piercing blue eyes locked with hers and his entire body stiffened, nearly dropping the mobile. His recovery was as abrupt as his pause, leaving Alley breathless. He began frantically texting while he paced the well-worn carpet in front of the mantle.

"So who's this then John, one of your girlfriends gone wrong?" Sherlock asked without looking up from the phone.

"Actually, this is Alley. We met today after my job interview," John explained.

"You're not the type to bring home strays, are you?"

"No!" John exclaimed, "I just…"

Sherlock suddenly stopped pacing and looked Alley in the eye. She blinked, while he narrowed his eyes.

"You're not Alley," Sherlock stated, "Alley's not your real name." He started pacing again.

"How did you know?" Alley asked, surprised. She hadn't even had the chance to greet the man, how on earth could he have figured out that her name wasn't actually Alley?

"You don't look like an Alley," Sherlock shrugged, "you look like…Alison. No, that's not right. Amelia?"

Alley crossed her arms across her chest, a small smile tugging on her lips. This man was very peculiar and she had to admit she was enjoying this, whatever it was.

"No," she grunted.

"Ah, of course not," Sherlock sighed, "Natasha! No, not right either. Madison?"

Alley raised an eyebrow. "It's Alodia, actually."

Sherlock stopped pacing and turned to her. "Well that's rubbish, who has old-fashioned names like that nowadays?"

John cleared his throat from the chair he was comfortably situated in. Sherlock glanced at him, and then back at Alley.

"Oh, right," Sherlock muttered, "old-fashioned, how quaint."

"Your mum like history?" Alley asked.

"Unfortunately," Sherlock muttered, "Alodia, hm? I don't like it. You need another name."

Alley tried to contain her anger while Sherlock flicked through names in his head. He looked at her eyes, down to her neck and finally her hands. He inhaled deeply and a fresh scent filtered his senses.

"Aloe," Sherlock suddenly stated, "that's your name, Aloe Vera. Suits you perfectly."

"How so?" Alley asked.

"Numerous reasons. Your eyes are very green, your pendant is shaped like a leaf and your hands smell strongly of Aloe Vera. I have reason to assume you like the plant, so Aloe Vera," Sherlock explained without taking a breath.

John's phone beeped and Sherlock's attention waned. He started pacing again while texting madly. John offered to make tea, Alley taking up on the offer. Suddenly Sherlock stopped pacing again and he took two large steps toward Alley until he was merely inches away from her. She looked up into his eyes, her throat suddenly very dry.

"You're pregnant," Sherlock pointed out boldly, causing Alley to wrap her arms around her stomach protectively. "John, did you knock her up?"

"What?" John echoed from the kitchen, his head popping back in through the doorway. "Are you mad?"

"No," Sherlock shook his head, "you're not the one. You haven't had sex in months. Never mind."

And he started pacing again. Alley took this as her cue to escape to the kitchen.

"What are you doing here again?" Sherlock asked, just as Alley stepped out of the room.

"She's going to live with us for a while," John yelled from the kitchen.

The sound that followed was very similar to a gunshot.

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**Chapter title inspired by Beyonce's "Hello" **


	2. Like A Virgin

**Our apologies for the couple days between the transfer and publishing of the second chapter like we promised, we were trying to decide on chapter title, so here it is! **

**Disclaimer: we do not own Sherlock, no mater how much we wish we did, hehe. **

**Enjoy! **

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_Like a Virgin_

The supposed gunshot made her jump, and spin back around to face her new acquaintance. He stood frowning at his flatmate, the phone that had been in his hand previously now on the floor below his open hand.

"Sherlock?" John sounded worried, but his face didn't show the same concern.

"Hm," Sherlock hummed as he frowned, "she's not good girlfriend material, John." Sherlock bent over and picked up the phone again.

"What, Sherlock..." John looked around the rooms occupants awkwardly, shifted on his feet and then inclined his head a little further towards Sherlock. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, look at her John, obviously not the girlfriend type."

"Excuse me?"

"Sherlock!"

John and Alley both spoke at once, Alley's face showed fury, her hands clenched tightly by her sides and John's exasperated expression confused the consulting detective no end.

"I'm just saying," Sherlock shrugged putting the phone back in his pocket.

"Don't start that now!" John stepped forward in warning, but Sherlock stepped around him so that he stood in front of the girl, ready to explain his reasoning, seeing as no one else in the room was intelligent enough to see it.

"No ring, which means you're not engaged or married," Sherlock began, "however your hair is neatly groomed, your face done with an expensive brand of make-up, most likely Chanel because of the shades and density. You're wearing an expensive bracelet that doesn't match your necklace or earrings which are considerably cheaper. However, your jeans were obviously picked out because it matches your blouse, which in turn matches your eyes. All of your clothing screams fashionable but not designer. Your shoes are black, a colour that goes with anything and your nails are also an alarming shade of olive green. So, it is obvious you like your things organised, balanced and matched. Bit of a perfectionist obviously. So then why the bracelet that doesn't match anything else, that and the added price of said bracelet and make-up in comparison to clothes you obviously picked out yourself says they're a gift from someone you care deeply about, someone who also has a lot at his disposal. The bracelet is old, but you clean it regularly, so a gift from someone you possibly see every day. Your mother and father wouldn't give you something with such large gem stones, so a boyfriend then."

Alley had her arms crossed over her chest. "Are you done yet?"

"Nowhere near," Sherlock smirked. "In comparison your overall first impression of being a perfectionist and eager to impress your eyes show signs of recently hysterical crying, your make-up is smudged but you have made no attempt to fix it, until moments ago you were tugging on the bracelet as though unconsciously trying to get it off, I'd say recent break up, but not quite, there's something off about it. If anyone were to get involved with you now it would not last, they would be your rebound, no hope in an ongoing relationship. Also, what could you bring to a relationship, you've no money, the aforementioned clothes attest to that and you carry the faint odor of coffee, your hands have the faintest scars from burns where you've obviously grabbed a pot handle without protection, you work in a coffee shop, have done for years but the lack of potency in the scent means you haven't been to work in 33 hours. But you don't like your job, you've no stress lines on your face meaning you don't care about it, you're just going through the motions. That means it was a fall back of some kind, you must have partially trained in another profession. You came home with John, John was at the clinic today applying for a job, you two must have met there, obviously you have a trusted friend there, someone you've known for a long time, I deduce you went to medical school. And as you have shown no emotions even in your eyes during my entire speech I see that you are emotionally withdrawn because of a traumatic experience in your past, you've got a slight Spanish accent, migrated to England at an early age most likely, yet you still surround yourself with Spanish culture, probably the boyfriend was Spanish too. My conclusion, not girlfriend material, don't even bother John."

Sherlock finished off by turning around to face his flatmate, obviously pleased with himself as flabbergasting the guy again with his intellect. But his gloat was short lived.

"Would you like to hear what I deduce about you?" Sherlock didn't even bother turning his entire body, only tilting his head a little to see the woman from the corner of his eye. This was going to be good.

"I'd like to see you try," Sherlock smirked.

"I'd say you're a sociopath, but we both know that's not true. You're arrogant and aloof, but I can see you care about John. You look at him with affection although it's subtle, while you look at me with disdain. Perfectly understandable, though, I am a stranger who suddenly popped up and will be living with you now. It's not that you don't know how to involve yourself emotionally, you just choose not to," Alley stated proudly.

"Not bad," Sherlock muttered, "anything else?"

"Yes, actually," Alley seethed, "you are highly intellectual, something you like to point out and use to your advantage. Unfortunately, it also means you don't level yourself with us 'normal' people. When I look at you, I see a lonely man who needs company but he doesn't know how to properly put himself in social situations. Perhaps you had a bad past? Trouble at home, perhaps with a sibling or even your old-fashioned mother who gave you a name like 'Sherlock'. And don't get me started at the look you gave me when I first came in. I know that look, I've seen it countless times on men. You, Sherlock Holmes, have never been with a woman. Así que hay."

John let out a strangled noise which caused Sherlock and Alley to turn to look at him.

"Everything alright, John?" Sherlock asked.

"Fine," John mumbled, "everything's fine."

Alley smirked. "Well, John, now you know your flatmate's biggest problem. Sherlock Holmes is a virgin."

The stunned silence lasted all of five seconds before John lost his battle against his laughter and Mrs. Hudson shuffled away saying something about tea and being a housekeeper just this once because they were welcoming a new member to the gang.

Sherlock was in one of his moods the rest of the day curled up in a fetal position facing the back of the couch against the wall. Alley walked around smug with her achievement of uncovering his deepest, darkest secret. She was shown into a bedroom just off the kitchen. In the closet there was a few items of men's clothing but she thought nothing of it at the time. She made herself at home with the few possessions, clothing and necessities, that she had thrown in a bag before she had fled to the clinic. Once it was all neatly arranged she went out to the kitchen looking for a snack.

It was obvious to her now that she was thinking rationally, she should have seen the signs much earlier, the morning sickness, although it hadn't been as bad as many women claimed. It was only occasional and she figured it was her most recent unhealthy diet causing it, along with the heart burn. There was also the constant peckishness, always hankering for a stick of rhubarb. Either way, at the moment she just wanted any food she could get her hands on. But the most disgusting odor hit her in the face when she walked into the kitchen, like there was something rotten hanging around. She had to run to the window and throw it open to let in the semi fresh air or she was going to be sick.

"I do not even want to know what is in that fridge." she said as she stepped back, leaving the window open. She caught the smirk on Sherlock's face before he turned back around to face the back of the couch once again. Sighing she decided to wander instead, walking over to the desk that was covered in papers, books and a computer. Upon lifting one sheet of paper she quickly let go of it again and stepped back with a yelp. John walked in just at that moment and looked up at her.

"What is it?"

"A skull, why is there a skull?" This made Sherlock get up and race over, lifting the sheet of paper and grabbing the offending object. He smiled and walked over to place it on the mantle piece.

"An old friend, Mrs. Hudson must have moved it." John shot an apology glance at Alley as she sat in a nearby chair, suddenly exhausted from the long day, squeezing the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger she ignored the chuckles coming from the troublesome Sherlock.

"I'm going to bed; I'll see you tomorrow, John." She said as she got up and walked out of the room ignoring Sherlock completely as he began to type furiously on his phone.

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**Chapter Title inspired by Madonna's "Like a Virgin"**


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